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THEAIR was heavy with tension as Eleanor and Daemon stood side by side on the cold, unforgiving stone of the castle ramparts. A murmur of unease rippled through the gathered crowd below, a sea of faces marred by confusion, anger, and dread. The sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie orange glow that clashed with the somber mood enveloping King's Landing. It was a day that would be etched in their memories forever—a day that marked the end of their father and the beginning of a new, uncertain era.
Eleanor clutched the railing, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Beside her, Daemon stood silent, his jaw clenched tightly, a storm brewing in the depths of his violet eyes. They had been thrust into a world of chaos since their grandfather's death, and now they were forced to witness the execution of the man who had once held their lives in his hands. Their father, the Prince, had been found guilty of regicide—accused of murdering the king, a crime that left their family in ruins.
As the executioner prepared the gallows, Eleanor's heart pounded violently in her chest. She struggled to breathe, the oppressive weight of grief pressing down on her like a leaden shroud. How had it come to this? The man who had once cradled her as a child, the one who had whispered promises of a bright future, was now a traitor condemned to die before the very people he once ruled.
"Eleanor..." Daemon's voice broke through her thoughts, thick with emotion. He turned to her, his expression torn between anger and sorrow. "We don't have to watch this."
But Eleanor shook her head, the words catching in her throat. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze away from the unfolding scene below. "I need to see," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the restless crowd. "I need to understand."
Daemon sighed heavily, his shoulders tense. "What is there to understand? He betrayed us. He betrayed everything we are."
Eleanor's heart ached at his words, but she could not deny the truth in them. Their father's actions had been unforgivable, yet a part of her still clung to the hope that there was more to the story, some explanation that could justify the betrayal. Yet, as the executioner tightened the noose, she felt her heart begin to crumble.
The crowd below roared as the prince was led to the gallows, his face pale and drawn. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat as she caught a glimpse of him. He looked older, defeated—gone was the man who had once commanded respect and authority. In his place stood a broken man, shackled and at the mercy of a cruel fate. The whispers in the crowd grew louder, a cacophony of judgment and disdain.
"Look at him!" a voice cried from the crowd. "A coward! A traitor! He deserves this fate!"
"Silence!" shouted a guard, brandishing his spear to quell the unrest. But the voices continued, rising and falling like a wave, each accusation a fresh wound to Eleanor's heart.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the railing tighter, her gaze locked on her father. "What will happen to us?" she asked, her voice trembling as she glanced at Daemon, seeking solace in his presence. "What does this mean for our family?"
